scented a little romance back of Jim's queer actions,
and knew more or less about his relations with the giant father of his
little wife.

"And look sharp for forest fires, because, seems to me I smelled smoke
in the air a little while ago!" were the last words from Allan, who,
being a Maine boy, knew what such a thing meant.

Thad glanced sharply at Jim.

"Do you imagine we'll stack up against anything like that, Jim?" he
asked.

"Thet's hard tew say," replied the guide. "At this time o' year, an'
with ther woods as dry as they be, anything is possible, I'd say. I
don't smell smoke right naow, but then ther wind mout a changed sense
Allan sez he did."

"Well, I hardly know whether I want to run up against a real woods'
fire, or not," Thad declared. "Of course, I've always wanted to see what
one looked like, because I've heard so much about them; we're on a new
test now, for the Silver Fox Patrol; being assistant fire wardens of the
state of Maine; and as such none of us should wish a fire to occur. So
I'll just forget all about it. If one happens to come along, I guess
there's no harm in my looking at it."

Jim laughed at this quaint philosophy.

"I jest reckons naow, yeou'll be doin' a heap more'n jest lookin' at
hit," he took occasion to remark, with a sage shake of his head.

Thad laughed outright.

"I can guess what you mean, Jim," he remarked. "You think that about
that time the fire will take to chasing after me, and I'll have all I
want to do in skipping out. Well, let's forget all about that, now, and
talk of something else. For one thing, this is a splendid crisp fall
morning. I saw pretty good ice on the edge of the lake. And say, I'd
like to be up here a month or two from now. I warrant you there's some
mighty fine skating on that sheet of water."

"Thet they be, sumtimes," replied the other, with a nod. "I've seen hit
jest as slick as a big pane o' glass fur miles an' miles. With ther wind
ablowin' great guns I've jest opened my coat, an' been blown like a
thistle-down from one end tew t'other, in less time than yew cud think.
My dad, which is long gone, onct had an adventure with a pack o' wolves
on thet same smooth ice, I kin remember him tellin' 'bout."

"I'd like to hear it, Jim," said the scout, eagerly.

"Wall, I'm a pore hand at tellin' a story," the guide admitted. "Seems
like he war askatin' home, arter killin' a deer, an' hed sum o' ther
meat on his back, when ther wolves took arter